


misadventures after you've met the love of your life, by victor nikiforov

by catslikemilkshakes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Requited Love, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catslikemilkshakes/pseuds/catslikemilkshakes
Summary: “Be my coach, Victor!” was the phrase that forever changed the course of his life, said by the over-eager and arguably horny Japanese skater rubbing up against him. Victor felt himself blush and be consumed by what he later realized must be love.///Or, in which Yuuri never actually  *officially* proposed and Victor comes up with the worst plan ever.





	misadventures after you've met the love of your life, by victor nikiforov

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2018 yuri on ice reverse big bang. thanks to the lovely katsukifatale that did the art for this!  
> link to mac's art : http://aetgart.tumblr.com/post/175361530215/a-collaboration-with-cinnamon-freckles-for

_“Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl called  Cinderella…”_     
 From the time he was a small boy, Victor has been fascinated by fairy tales. His mother’s steady voice while reading had taken him to lands far away, where dragons hoarded treasure and princesses found true love. The happily ever after made his tiny heart burst with joy each time, despite his mother rereading them countless times at his stubborn insistence. His mother let him watch his Disney movies over and over, both singing along when they watched together over the weekends. That was his favourite pastime, besides going to the local skating rink with his mama.

Most mornings the boy dragged himself out of bed and trudged toward the kitchen, enticed by the scent of blini and his favourite blend of tea. She then kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair; giggling when he frowned and grumbled, “You’re mean, Mama.”    
 She only stuck her tongue out at him, “Eat your breakfast; or else you’ll be late for school, sweetheart.”  

His father was away from home for long periods of time, but when he returned he hugged his son tightly, and it made Victor feel safe in his father’s embrace. They played together in the snow, crafting men out of snow and pelting each other with snowballs, afterwards drinking hot chocolate and eating his mother’s vegetable soup and freshly baked bread. His parents were affectionate toward him, and toward each other, making for a loving childhood and the thought that he wanted to be like his parents when he grew up. He wanted to love and be loved.

As he grew older, he had less time to think about true love and a happily ever after. His time was consumed by ballet and ice skating practice, rigorous hours of sweat and tears and stiff limbs. “Mama, I’m tired. I don’t want to skate anymore.” He was eleven and ready to quit. His mama was silent for a moment, her hands delicately wrapping his bloody and bruised feet in gauze and bandages. She sighed and looked up at his blotchy face. She knew why he felt the way he did – she had been there as well, especially during her late teenage years. He sniffed and wiped his face with the wet sleeve of his knitted sweater, “Mama, are you…mad?” His hesitation broke her heart, and she hugged him close to her bosom. “No, of course not, sweetheart. If you’re sure you want to stop with your skating, I’ll support you. I want you to be happy, honey.” He felt better the next day and continued to skate, even with her constant reassurance that he could stop if he’d wanted to.

  
-&-

  
By the time he was twelve, his mother had passed away and his father was nowhere to be seen - Yakov was all he had left. His coach and his wife took him in, but the boy spent days alone in his room, refusing to eat. When he’d gathered the courage to join them for supper, conversation was stilted and silence deafening. The familiar chatter of his own family’s mealtimes felt foreign, after a few years.    
 He’d tried to consider Lilia his mother, but she was distant in a way he was not used to - his mother’s warm cuddles and laughter had always enveloped the boy in comfort and love. She didn’t hug him, ever, and she was too busy to ever watch a movie with him.

For a while he found it hard to look in a mirror; he was almost the spitting image of his mother. Her sparkling blue eyes looked back at him, her silver locks lay soft on his shoulders. Any lingering expectations he had about love were shattered when Lilia and Yakov got divorced. It was not a surprise to anyone except Victor. They had seemed happy and in love, but his coach’s words cut deep in a way he didn’t expect. “Real life isn’t like fairy tales, Vitya. Most times love just…fades away over time.”  
  His rink-mates shot him a few sympathetic smiles when he’d see them; no-one was as hurt as him by the crumbling of his adoptive family. He swore to focus only on his skating career after that – he wouldn’t let something as fickle as love interfere with the most important thing in his life. School took a backseat, although he did manage to graduate. Dances and potential dates were pushed aside for more hours practicing jumps and step sequences. He didn’t really make friends, or socialize, with other kids his age – the only exception being other skaters.

At fifteen, he’d picked up a stray – a poodle puppy, only a few weeks old – behind the dumpster at the back of his apartment building. The poor pup had been crying and shivering, then warmed right up when bundled up in an old blanket and fed warm milk. He named her Makkachin and she grew to be his best friend. Years later, his decision to stay dedicated to the sport haunts him when the drunk Japanese man clinging onto him sparks a wave of unfamiliar and unwanted emotions. Said man had confused Victor earlier in the evening, when the Russian had suggested a photo, only to be refused as the man turned around and stalked away.

  
-&-

  
“Hey, Cristophe. Do you perhaps know who that is?” Victor tried to ask nonchalantly, looking casually at the dark-haired man sulking by a nearby table. The banquet was tedious as he was tired of conversing with people he didn’t care for, so he’d gravitated toward a familiar face. Chris winked at him and patted Victor on the back, “Sure, he’s Yuuri Katsuki – great Japanese skater. Though he didn’t do that great today. Amazing step sequences in his programs.”  
"What, really? He competed today?"  
Chris chuckled, “Seriously, Victor. You don’t seem to care about your competition – maybe he’ll still let you hit that, even if you don’t remember who he is.”       
  A faint blush covered Victor’s cheeks, “Chris! What the hell? I barely know him!”   
 “You only live once, Victor, and he is a hottie.”

He kept a subtle eye on Yuuri, who seemed to be downing the champagne at an alarming speed. As the night dragged on, more items of clothing were tossed by Yuuri and he challenged Yuri, the grumpy and sarcastic teenage Yuri, to a dance-off. The energy in the room was overwhelming and Victor saw Chris and this new Yuuri strip and pole dance. He couldn’t contain his happiness and surprise when Yuuri took his hand and danced with Victor, touching and having fun.      
 “Be my coach, Victor!” was the phrase that forever changed the course of his life, said by the over-eager and arguably horny Japanese skater rubbing up against him. Victor felt himself blush and be consumed by what he later realized must be love. He woke up with a slight headache and a grin on his face the next day. Yuri rolled his eyes and muttered something about Victor being a stupid teenager (which was a bit rude, and comical, considering Yuri’s own teen angst Victor had to deal with daily). “Are you going to see that nobody again, old man?” He cursed himself when he realized he never asked for Yuuri’s phone number.

  
-&-

The program he skated, the year following the _blessed_ Grand Prix Final, whilst wearing his heart on his sleeve; was choreographed and composed for the man who stole Victor Nikiforov’s heart. The press wasn’t convinced by this sudden vulnerability and innocence of the young man in love Victor portrayed on the ice, and was, in the other areas of his life. A guy as successful and handsome as Victor would no doubt be the heart breaker of any hopeful potential lovers, right? The reporters continued to pressure him for information on his (non-existent) love life. He ignored them and carried on, hoping that Yuuri Katsuki would eventually see and reciprocate Victor’s feelings, by making good on his request to have Victor coach him.

The return to the monotony of his daily life was only made bearable with the company of his poodle, Makkachin. She’d been with him for more than a decade, her fur slowly greying as the months went on. Victor had paced around his apartment during the middle of the, night several times, breaking his head over his beloved pet’s inevitable death; the realization that he’d have no family, not even a lover. Makkachin always gave a low whine and looked up at him with warm eyes and licked her human’s face, for reassurance, as soon as Victor scooped her up in his arms when he was this troubled.

He had a day off and was spending it with Makkachin, both lounging on the couch. He lazily scrolled through his Youtube recommendations, bored out of his mind, when a video caught his eye. _The title’s in Japanese_ , he thought, and the thumbnail featured a familiar face. He clicked with a hopeful heart and watched. His question was being answered, after almost a year. Two Google searches and some browsing later a ticket to Hasetsu, Japan had his name on it.

  
-&-

Hasetsu was like a breath of fresh air compared to St. Petersburg. The air was salty; the soft breeze blew Victor’s hair in all directions. Sunlight danced on the ocean’s surface and tiny seahorses galloped over the dark blue water. Japan was beautiful so far. Even Makkachin perked up, her tail wagging and nose sniffing curiously. Victor couldn’t help himself and took a lot of photos to be uploaded to Instagram. The friendly locals were more than happy to help guide him toward _Yutopia_ , Yuuri’s family’s hot spring, or _onsen_ , as his Google translate app had said.

He was given a warm welcome by a short and chubby woman, who also scratched Makkachin’s head and complimented the poodle’s curls. _She must be Yuuri’s mother_ , he thought, seeing the similarities she and her son shared. Mrs. Katsuki guided him toward the actual hot spring and took Makkachin off his hands – something about treats.    
   After he washed himself, he went to soak in the wonderful water and unwind. Thoughts of seeing Yuuri again filled him with excitement and he glanced around at the statues and plants surrounding the water. A sudden noise made him look toward the entrance to the _onsen_. There stood Yuuri, eyes unbelieving and mouth agape, “What are you doing here, Victor?”    
  It was certainly surprising that Yuuri didn’t remember his own request right away, but it was unimportant. Victor stood up, naked as the day he was born, and gestured to the shocked man, “I’m here to coach you for the Grand Prix Final. And you’re going to win.”

That night it became clear that Yuuri didn’t feel the same way. Victor tried to initiate physical contact and conversation, but Yuuri shied away or made excuses each time. He seemed, for lack of a better word, star-struck and frankly Victor wasn’t impressed. It’s not like they had met for the first time that day, but the Katsukis accommodated their guest as well as they could. He did learn what Yuuri’s favourite dish is, a delicious pork cutlet bowl, made with love by Mrs. Katsuki. Victor was amused when Yuuri said that the dish was for when he’d won a competition, yet seemed to be indulging in it. _Yuuri hadn’t really won anything for a while, had he?_ Luckily Victor could eat all the _katsudon_ he could ever want.

The futon he was to sleep on was soft and comfy, the only thing he was missing was Yuuri. Victor knew he’d arrived unannounced on Yuuri’s doorstep, yet he could not help the sadness growing in his chest. He held Makkachin close to his breast and was lulled to sleep by her soft breathing. _Tear-stained cheeks never were a good look for me_ , he thought, _tomorrow it’ll be better. I know it_.  
As the months went by, it seemed less likely that Yuuri even remembered the banquet. Victor wasn’t bothered by it anymore, as he and Yuuri bonded more and shared experiences. In the end Victor had kissed Yuuri on live television and Yuuri confirmed that he was drunk out of his mind at the banquet; subsequently horrified at the photos that were taken of him. He was bashful, the dancing with Victor and the coaching request unexpected – _was that how he was every time he got drunk?_ Victor’s months of quiet anguish and uncertainty had been for naught, after all.

  
- &-

Living legend and five-time world champion, Victor Nikiforov, has a sudden realization one night. He is cuddled up with the most beautiful man in the world: his Yuuri, handsome and sometimes too soft and squishy (for a figure skater) but in all the right places (places where Victor prefers his hands resting as they make love).   
 He is with the man he loves, yes, but with a ring on his finger with no spoken promise to go with it. His love had been hellbent on buying the rings and exchanging them in front of a church in a foreign country, though so far Yuuri hasn’t officially proposed after the initial shock wore off. Even after the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri hasn’t brought it up again, leaving Victor with no honest answer when people inquire about his ring. _Maybe Yuuri just isn’t ready to get married yet? Or to_ me _?_ No, Victor refuses to go with that train of thought. It was only a matter of time. He and Yuuri _have_ touched upon the subject of getting married and, as fate would have it, they couldn’t help the family members or friends interrupting their pleasant discussions at the most inconvenient times.

He remembers one night in particular: they were just chatting aimlessly around midnight, sipping some of the green tea Mrs. Katsuki had made, talking about anything and everything. “You know, you’d make a wonderful husband, Yuuri.” He emphasized his lover’s name as he usually did, but Yuuri seemed surprised by Victor’s sudden confession. Yuuri choked on a gulp of bitter tea and gasped for air. “Oh, _Yuuri_!”    
   He coughed a few times but brushed Victor’s concern off with a wave of his hand, before staring at Victor. “Uh…what? You mean that? Like, _your_ husband?”

The Russian nodded, taking a long sip of tea, eyes peering over the edge of the cup at the anxious mess (according to Yuuri himself), fidgeting with his shirt and avoiding his coach’s gaze. He waited until Victor finished the drink, then cupped Victor’s face in his hands and kissed him shyly. It wasn't their first kiss, but it felt more intimate in the low lighting of Yuuri's room and the softness of the bed they only sat on previously.    
    Yuuri pushed him down onto his back and settled in between his toned thighs, confidence infusing the lazy kisses and pecks Victor received. Yuuri's hands slipped inside the _yukata_ Victor was wearing, curiosity evident in the light touches of his icy hands. Victor let out a gasp at the unexpected coldness trailing over his chest. Yuuri startled and sat up, looking at Victor with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, Victor, did I hurt you?"     
 Victor shook his head, "I'm perfectly fine, Yuuri."     
  The Japanese skater sighed, "I got carried away and…" Victor moved the man's hand over his crotch and Yuuri blushed when he felt the obvious arousal of his lover. "I don't mind, Yuuri, darling. I think it's sweet when you take the lead." If possible, Yuuri’s face turned redder.

The door creaked open and Mrs. Katsuki peeked in, a smile adorning her chubby face, "Would you two like some midnight snacks?"     
 Her son froze, like a deer caught in headlights, at being caught in this awkward and suspect position between his, _as far as his mother’s concerned_ , coach's legs. _Oh, dear God_ , he thought.  
Victor seemed unaffected by the breach of privacy as he glanced over his lover’s shoulder and casually waved at her. “Hi, Mrs. Katsuki! Fancy seeing you up this late; I imagine making delicious meals all day can get quite draining.”    
 His mother giggled, shaking her head, “Oh Victor- _san_ , you do know how to charm an old lady.”     
 Victor snorted incredulously, “Nonsense, Mrs. Katsuki, you don’t look a day over thirty- five.”              
 “Such a kind boy,” his mother gushed.

Yuuri blinked a few times, trying to convince himself that it was just a horrible nightmare; that his mother was in no way casually conversing with his lover (with messy hair, lips kissed red and chest openly displayed for all the world to see, simultaneously having his barely covered thighs wrapped around Yuuri’s waist).     
  “ _Now_ , you mentioned snacks, Mrs. Katsuki?” The Japanese man snapped out of his reverie at Victor’s curious tone. _Holy shit_.    
  “Mom!” he groaned, “ _Please go away_.”  
She laughed like the time she had caught him talking to his Victor poster, amused but not cruel, and spoke to him in Japanese, “He’s a keeper, Yuuri. He’d make a wonderful son-in-law.” In English, mostly directed towards Victor, “Goodnight, you two. See you in the morning." 

The door shut quietly before Yuuri buried his face in his hands. “Fuck…That wasn’t super awkward or anything.” he muttered.  
A disappointed noise made him look down at Victor. “I wanted something to eat, Yuuri. I’m famished.” The Russian pouted. Yuuri started to apologize but Victor held up his hand, “It’s fine, but I’ll have you know – no more sneaking a bite of my _katsudon_.”      
He smiled sheepishly, “I didn't think you'd notice.”    
The older man rolled his eyes, “Like I couldn’t see you salivating over my meals. Maybe I just felt a bit sorry for you and looked away longer, that’s all. Little piggy.”

He’s teasing me, Yuuri realized, and he was filled with a warm and fluttery feeling, “Aw, you love me, don’t you?” It’s meant as a joke, but his lover’s eyes lost their playful sparkle and he looked at Yuuri with the raw intensity the Japanese man sometimes sees directed at him, when Victor thought Yuuri was distracted. “I…I do love you, Yuuri.” His voice cracked and Yuuri saw tears. “With all my heart, don’t ever doubt that. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”    
He embraced his teary-eyed lover, whispering similar words of devotion; they held each other close for what seemed like a wonderful eternity, before they drifted off into peaceful dreams.

  
-&-

He decides to take the matter into his own hands as he slips silently from the bed. Yuuri protests sleepily when Victor’s heat is unexpectedly gone but doesn’t wake up. He can’t help the fond smile adorning his face and kisses the younger man’s forehead. He decides to call Mrs. Katsuki first as Japan is a few hours ahead of him.  
“Hello, Victor, dear. How are things over there?” Her tone is cheerful and he immediately feels better about his decision. “It’s been great, Mrs. Katsuki…”  
“Victor, I told you to call me ‘Mom’ – you’re practically my son already,” she interrupts.  
“Sure…Mom.” The word feels foreign on his tongue after so long. “Mom, I…I want to marry Yuuri. And I want to ask your permission, not that I won’t marry him, _even if you say no_ – it’s just that I don’t want you to have a strained relationship or…”

“Victor,” she coos, “that is the best news I’ve heard in ages. Of course, we’d be happy for you two to marry. The whole family’s been counting on it since day one – okay, _just me_ from the very beginning. Oh, you make each other so happy – I see the love you have for each other when you’re together. Even when he’s just talking about you, Yuuri seems happier and more willing to let me see his emotions. You are undoubtedly the best thing that’s ever happened to my son, Victor.”  
He didn’t realize he’s been crying until she asks him what’s wrong.  “Nothing,” he sniffs,” Just, thank you. I appreciate it, Mom. I’ll call you later. And please, keep this a secret from Yuuri. I want it to be a surprise.”  
“Of course, sweetheart.”

Later, he runs into Yurio in the hotel restaurant and proceeds to ask for the teen’s help. Victor doesn’t expect the mumbled “Congrats, _I guess_ ”. He asks Yuri to repeat what he just said – “Fuck off, old man! I don’t see why I’ve got to be involved in your shitty scheme anyway.”   He decides to tease him, “You know that you are like the son Yuuri and I don’t have, _little kitten.”_      
“I’ll kill you if you call me ‘kitten’ one more time, Victor.”    
  The man holds his hands up in surrender and smiles, “I take it you’ll be helping me.”  
Victor’s credit card and four cat-themed shirts later, Yuri is onboard. Now, all Victor has to do is get Phichit in on the plan, until it’s their time for the pair skate – now to get Yuuri’s ring without the man noticing.

  
-&-

He swears the ring was there the previous night, because he always puts it on the nightstand, no matter where he and Victor sleep at night. The hotel room currently looks as if it was hit by a hurricane. He’s checked under the bed and inside the drawers, the whole room; even in places the ring would never end up – the potted plant and the fish tank. Their clothes are strewn about, on the bed and over the furniture. He thanks his lucky stars that Victor is already gone for breakfast.    
 Yuuri always needs to sleep longer – he wasn’t made to be a morning person at all. Victor always used the extra time to catch up with the Russian skaters, giving Yuuri a short window to find the gold band.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thinks, as he messages a certain Russian teen.  
“I seem to be rather forgetful today, Yuri.”    
“Huh?” the teen frowns.  
Yuuri forces a chuckle, “I forgot where I put my ring.”   
 Yuri is unimpressed with him, he can tell, by the twist of the boy’s mouth. "So, that’s why you called me here? Katsudon, you've finally fucked up more than you did in the Grand Prix Final, huh?" Yuuri folds his arms over chest.  
The teenager smirks. "I knew it."      
 Yuuri cocks his head, "Know what, Yuri?" It comes out as a pathetic whimper.     
 There's an unfamiliar glint in his green eyes, "That Victor would fall in love with someone like you. He's as much an airhead as you're a dumbass." The Russian smiles slightly.

He isn't sure how to take Yuri’s answer -it isn't positive or uplifting but it isn't exactly bad, per se. The boy continues, "Because even if you're stupid enough to lose your so-called symbol of love, Victor would never leave you. He's so disgustingly in love with you, it makes me want to puke." Yuuri is sure he imagines the little wink Yuri gives.     
 The boy walks up to him, punches his shoulder and says, "Don't worry about it, Katsudon, you'll figure something out. By the way, your room looks like an absolute disaster.” Yuri's phone buzzes and he unlocks it before reading the message. He looks away guiltily, “I've got to go now. "

Yuuri frowns, “Wait, Yuri!” The lithe skater practically sprints out of the room, not even looking back at the Japanese Yuri. Yuuri feels happy for about five seconds, thinking about Yuri’s sweet words (for Yurio, of course) and confused by Yuri’s suspicious actions, then remembers his current predicament. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach is back with a vengeance and he wants to puke. _What am I going to do?_  
He wants to scream or break something, maybe; he calls his mom instead. She senses the distress in her son’s voice and asks if there is something that’s bothering him. He starts to sob and barely manages to string together a complete sentence. Her insistence on him not worrying about it seems uncharacteristic but he chooses to ignore it. After the call he doesn’t feel any better and tries to go on like nothing is wrong.    
There _will_ still be time to find the ring. He just needs to be patient. _I can do this._

Next up is Phichit. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”    
  “Not great. I’m in trouble, I might need your help.” He hears shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Do continue.” Phichit’s voice is laced with curiosity. “See, I kind of, sort of lost my engagement ring.”   
 A gasp. “What?! Really? When? Does Victor know?”  Oh, the Phichit feigning ignorance was definitely not going to let his friend suspect Victor of any wrongdoing, after all – Victor had promised him exclusive wedding selfies for his Instagram.    
 “No!” Yuuri chokes out, “He doesn’t need to! What would he say if he knew I was this careless? I lost my engagement ring, Phichit! I don’t know what to do.”  

“Well, for starters, I think you should take a deep breath. Yeah, like that, then – where did you last put the ring? The bedside table? Mmm, you sure it didn’t accidentally fall or something?” Yuuri’s done everything and checked everywhere that Phichit’s suggested already. “How about you ask the maid cleaning the room later to keep an eye out for it? I’m sure it didn’t grow legs and walk away. It’ll be fine Yuuri, we both know that Victor is super in love with you – this won’t change anything, I promise you.” He says in a soothing voice.  
The last part sounds reasonable (the maid part) and Yuuri is practically on his knees when he begs the blonde-haired girl to search for his ring. She gives him a nervous smile and agrees. He thanks her profusely before he heads outside to clear his head.

  
-&-

  
He can’t do it. Four hours later and he’s had no luck finding that stupid ring. Victor showed up inevitably and is treating Yuuri to lunch, but his thoughts stay with the ring. Victor is smiling and talking but Yuuri doesn’t hear what he’s saying. “Yuuri, are you okay?” A frown mars his fiancé’s beautiful forehead as he waits for Yuuri’s answer. “Sorry, I’m just nervous about the pair skate,” he lies.   “Why would you be nervous? I have complete faith in our pair skating abilities, and in your marvelously strong arms lifting me up,” Victor proclaims. “I’m glad you feel that way.” _At least one of us doesn’t know that I’m a complete failure._ He pushes back on the chair he’s sitting on and gets up, “I’m gonna go and take a walk.” Victor stares at his fiancé’s retreating form (mostly his butt) and bites his lip, “I’ll even hold your hand, Yuuri.”      
He’s flipped off. _Oh, Yuuri, I hope I haven’t made a mistake._

  
- &-

  
Twenty minutes before their program Yuuri corners Victor in an empty corridor. “Hey, can I kiss you?” Victor barely nods before Yuuri kisses him urgently, his hands dragging through his silver hair and tongue exploring Victor’s pliant mouth. He nibbles at Victor’s bottom lip before pulling away finally, leaving them breathless. Victor pants and grins, “What the hell was that, Yuuri?”   
  The younger man stares intently at him, “For good luck.” Victor chuckles. “That’s one hell of a good luck charm. I’m almost tempted to say that it’s better than those rings you bought.”

Yuuri’s breath hitches; he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at Victor for a second time, then glances at the clock above Victor’s head. “There’s something I have to tell you, Victor. I hope you don’t hate me after this, because I swear I looked everywhere and it’s like it vanished into thin air.” The older man nods encouragingly.  
  “The ring, my engagement ring – it’s gone and I know it meant a lot to you, to us. I’m so sorry…”  
 Victor hugs him tightly. “It’s _fine_ , Yuuri – I don’t need a ring to remind me of our love. We can always buy another ring, but I won’t ever be able to replace you, love.”   
His lover cries quietly on his shoulder and Victor strokes his back and whispers, “It’s been a long day, huh? We’re almost done.”  
 The guilt sits heavily in his stomach and Victor has to resist the urge to spill the beans to his beloved Yuuri. _I hope you can forgive me for this._

  
Their skates slice the ice with precise steps and jumps. They move in sync with the music and each other. Yuuri only has eyes for Victor, and Victor only has eyes for Yuuri. Jumps are executed flawlessly, the elegant dance a serenade. Thunderous applause erupts as soon as they finish and out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees Victor taking something off his neck. The familiar gold glints in the spotlight and he laughs almost hysterically. By now, the audience has seen Victor on one knee and with what appears to be the infamous engagement rings; they cheer and clap even louder. Yuuri is absolutely livid on one hand and is fighting the urge to cry on the other. Victor is grinning up at him, that big forehead shining in the spotlight focusing on them. "You, you... Asshole."    
His fiancé's grin falters before Yuuri speaks again. "Do you know how worried I was that I lost this fucking ring?" He drops to his knees carefully and flings his arms around the man’s neck. Victor pulls him close and they breathe in each other’s scent and sweat. “I do,” Yuuri whispers throatily and starts to laugh again. “I do! Freaking asshole, doing this to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive you.”      
“As long as you’ll marry me.”

  
- &-

They go to bed at around midnight, exhausted. Makkachin sleeps on the foot of the bed, and she’s dead to the world. They put on their pajamas when Victor flops down on the bed, “You know, Yuuri, when I was a child I loved fairy tales.” _Okay_ , Yuuri thinks, a bit out of nowhere but he loved learning things about Victor in general, even the tiniest thing was treasured in his heart. “Oh, that’s pretty cute, you know. Did you dream of being the brave and handsome knight that defeats fearsome dragons?”    
 “No, I think I always preferred to be the princess. My mother always laughed when I said that, but then she said, ‘You can be who you want to be, sunshine.’”    
 “That’s…I wanted to be the knight most of the time, probably ‘cause I’ve never really been brave.”  
Victor shakes his head and says indignantly, “Yuuri! I think you are brave! You can be the knight, I’ll be the prince and Makkachin can be our trusty steed."    
  Yuuri pecks his now official fiancé on the cheek, “Go to sleep, babe.” He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> blini - russian pancakes


End file.
